


Let Me Show You How a Kiss Should Taste

by Charliesmusings



Series: Fashionista, How Do You Look? [3]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Fashion AU, Fluff, Other, hello author went feral writing these, kiss prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charliesmusings/pseuds/Charliesmusings
Summary: Did a kiss drabble meme on tumblr and was encouraged to post them here! The others may also end up on ao3, but this one is dedicated specifically to the ones for this AU!For those new to the AU, Skrael and Bellroc and Nari were all designers together after meeting in fashion school. Their first year was disastrous, however, as they had a major falling out. Nari hasn't spoken to them in years, and Bellroc and Skrael have rapidly become rivals in the industry.The first chapter is not considered officially part of the timeline, as of yet, though that could change; the second is from their time in fashion school, and is considered backstory.
Relationships: Bellroc/Skrael (Tales of Arcadia)
Series: Fashionista, How Do You Look? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066058
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. kiss me on the mouth and set me free

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Credit goes to Soulmemes! Here is the link if anyone would like it: https://soulmemes.tumblr.com/post/639053333112422400/kissing-prompts
> 
> First Chapter's prompt: [HIDDEN] + Bellroc initiates

Coffee. It was only coffee. He could do… coffee. Sitting together, pointedly across from each other, with a cup to place between them was a degree of separation that Skrael could handle.

Sweetening the deal was that it was entirely professional. There was no reason to cross into the territory that they had an unshakeable habit of crossing into, the way they clashed words as fencers did blades.

It was supposed to be easy. A simple discussion of particular business matters, and then they’d be on their separate paths again.

Bellroc slid into the chair across from Skrael, [looking, unfortunately, incredible.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2F2vKuliL&t=NTlhNTIxYzY3YTNjYjAyODlhY2E5MTkxZDU1N2QxMzEzYTZiNWI1ZSw1MDc3NDM3OGI4ZWJlOTBkMGY4MWZmOWE4ODQ2OWJhODFlNzU5NWMx&ts=1609557415)

He frowned, “I’m fairly certain that I requested you be subtle.”

Bellroc’s grin was positively vicious, “Then you should have [taken your own advice.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2F4s9yhHt&t=NzM4ZjQ5MzEzNzYxYjYzZmY2MDhiN2YyNjNiNGY0OGQ4NTNjYTMyNSw0NThjMzZmZDUxNDUzZTBmMjU5OGNjYWEzZjBkYzI3NzBlMjk5MzZh&ts=1609557415)”

Skrael rolled his eyes. “You are in bright red.”

“And a vision, I’m sure.” They smirked. “But we have business to attend to, Skrael. Focus.”

_It was only coffee… it was only coffee…_

Skrael took a deep breath, bit down on what he’d wanted to say, and did indeed focus up. He reached into [his backpack](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fus.louisvuitton.com%2Feng-us%2Fproducts%2Fdiscovery-backpack-gm-monogram-shadow-leather-nvprod940002v&t=ZGQ5OTdiY2ZiYjRhZTMzZDRhMzBiNjY4YTYxZTllMzJmYzA4NzJlNSwzOGQzMmQ1ODI3NDMyYWNhNzA2ODRjMzlkMGM0MmNmNzEwZGNiNWY1&ts=1609557415) for a manila folder that felt more like he’d been carrying certain doom on his back, than what its contents really were.

With a gentle push, the thing sat between them, and it felt stark; a fresh morning pot of coffee, the blazing tail of roman candle firework.

“That’s them, then?” Bellroc hummed, staring at the folder.

It was odd how inconspicuous it looked; how utterly unremarkable it was in impression.

“The drafts, at least.” He said, taking a careful sip of coffee, to hide the twitch at his lips that threatened an anticipatory smile.

Merlin be damned, he felt that these designs were good. They were unfinished, but… well. There was a reason he was passing them on to Bellroc, now, wasn’t there?

It happened as Bellroc accepted the folder and began to put it into[ their own bag.](https://flic.kr/p/2ko7z22)

Skrael caught someone staring.

Now, someone staring wasn’t necessarily an issue in and of itself—even if their faces weren’t recognized, the two of them looked good, and he knew it; he knew people on the street knew it. They weren’t exactly wading through interested strangers, but they certainly could turn a few heads on occasion.

No, it was the notable lack of embarrassment when they were caught. The glint in their eyes that felt like a bird of prey’s. The pen being juggled between two fingers. These were all enough to raise suspicion.

The truly damning piece, however, was the portable recorder attached to their hip.

Skrael’s next movements were carefully calculated.

He slid his eyes casually out the window, acting as if his accidental eye contact with the journalist had hardly fazed him; the last thing they needed was the reporter realizing they’d been smoked out.

Because Skrael was also fairly certain—by the look on the person’s face—that they were still trying to parse out if they really were sitting in the same café as two nationally-recognized designers, or if the pair of them were lookalikes. Which meant that he needed—

“Do not turn around.” He said softly, over his coffee cup. “If you do, we’ll be caught by the press. No offense, but you rather have a… recognizable look.” He said, tapping his finger to his temple to indicate their sunglasses.

They scowled, “As if you don’t, Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet?”

He blinked. …They had an unfairly good point.

After a moment’s deliberation, he sighed, tucked his hands under the table, and slipped off [his gloves](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2F155bBC2&t=Yjc1NDk0YjZlNzY1MDEwNjY2NWUxM2ZhYWU0MzM3ZjUxMDRhOWQ1OCxiYjM4NzFlNzk0MzU4NGFkY2VkYzhjODUxYWE2ZDEyZmM0OTJmNWI2&ts=1609557415), immediately feeling underdressed.

Bellroc’s face was woven in surprise. Their eyes lingered a little too long on Skrael’s fingers—long, bony, almost ethereal—before they snapped themselves from their stupor and reached to do the same with their glasses.

Skrael held up a hand—still hating how exposed something so simple as not wearing gloves could make him feel— to stop them. “No. You need those to see, and we need two pairs of eyes on lookout.”

They were taken aback a second time, which gave them no small amount of irritation, that Skrael could do that to them so easily. They mumbled, “How did you know that?”

Skrael’s answer was disarmingly honest, given that he was too distracted to consider lying, “You’ve always hated contacts.” He said casually, eyes trained on the journalist, who was staring at their phone, likely looking for anything that could prove their hunch about the designers to be true.

“We have to hurry.” Skrael continued. “We’re close to being recognized.”

Bellroc looked as if they were considering something, but evidently chose not to share, as they stood sharply, causing Skrael to do the same.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the reporter noticed their active departure, and, while they were trying to be subtle, they did begin to pack up as well.

Skrael grimaced, tucking his hair underneath his coat to obscure its length, “The jig might be up…”

Bellroc paused, then, and the fire in their eyes made Skrael do the same.

“Do you trust me?” They asked suddenly.

Skrael blinked. He glanced to the reporter—still packing up—and then back to Bellroc. “Wh- In what context?”

They huffed, “Skrael, we don’t have time to get into the technicalities; _do you trust me?”_

Skrael paused for only one moment longer. “…I trust that you have an idea that will get us out of this without ending up on the front-page news.”

It wasn’t the answer they’d expected—a resounding ‘no’ would have been the most predictable—but it was –

“Good enough.” They said, voice low, nearing a growl, as they took his hand— _oh…—_ and dragged him outside.

The reporter was not far behind, and Bellroc knew they had to sell this.

There was one thing that the pair of them were most known for, in junction with the other, according to the public. Their absolute and utter distaste for the other was not obscured, and in fact, encouraged, even; it made staying away from the other easier.

So, if they were to prove that they were supposedly not themselves…

_Thank god the alley’s empty_ , they thought, as they tugged Skrael into it, and, with little warning, pressed him up against the wall of the coffee shop they’d just exited from.

Skrael hated to admit that he caught onto their line of thinking nearly as soon as his back met brick. It was rare when it happened, but even now, that he could—in the important moments—practically read their mind, gave him a painful twinge that came from memory of the past.

Lucky for him, his mind was evacuated as soon as Bellroc’s face was the only thing he could see. They gave him one last chance to say no.

They breathed a quiet, “May I?” and Skrael’s eyes nearly slipped closed from that alone. The tone in their voice, the way they were crowding his space, and the way he didn’t even have it in him to mind—

He didn’t take it.

_“Yes…”_

Bellrocs’ lips were soft, and the pressure was simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. They’d opted, perhaps thinking themself merciful, for a gentle, sweet thing. Skrael appreciated the gesture, but they needed to properly deter anyone from trying to disturb them. He reached up with both hands, sliding them up the sides of Bellroc’s face to slip their glasses off. He could _feel_ their hesitation, rather than see it, by the way the kiss stuttered.

They started to pull back, but Skrael wrapped his arms around their neck, glasses still in one hand, and he mumbled against their lips, “Not enough. Too easy to interrupt.”

They did manage to lean back enough to shoot him a skeptical look, but he grinned, reached down, placed their glasses in the inside pocket of their coat—one hand still pointedly holding the back of their neck—and said, “Don’t you trust me?”

He was challenging them.

_…Hm. Fine._

They didn’t give him time to prepare, then, as they gripped his hips and leaned back in, and _oh_ the cropped shirt had turned out to be a very bad idea, Skrael thought, as he could feel their thumbs almost absentmindedly rubbing the exposed skin there.

He suppressed a shiver and moved to press closer to them, trapping their bottom lip between his own. As much as he was trying not to enjoy this—it was purely professional, he insisted—he couldn’t help but wonder why they’d never done this before. If it was this…

Footsteps approached the alley, paused for half a second.

He turned his head so that the reporter would only be greeted by the back of his—a move to ensure that Bellroc’s lack of sunglasses was visible _and_ that no distinct facial features could be made out—and reached to cling to Bellroc’s coat with both of his hands.

The footfalls sounded almost like running.

_Good_ , Skrael thought. Maybe they’d think twice about following strangers—even famous ones—again.

But, now that the reporter was gone, the fact that Bellroc hadn’t yet pulled away was now—… it felt different.

He regretted it even as he did it, but he sighed against their mouth and ended the kiss.

Their breaths wove together. “I think…” Skrael grinned, “I think they’re gone.”

Bellroc’s eyes held a look that Skrael had never seen before. “Yes…”

A horribly awkward silence settled in the minimal distance between them, calling their attention to just that. Skrael noticed, then, and quickly let go of Bellroc, stepping back— only to be greeted with brick. _Right._

Bellroc looked flushed as they, too, stepped away, royally embarrassed. “Ah… Thank you—” they flinched at their words, “For humoring me, I mean. No one would ever…” they trailed off.

“Suspect that we’d be caught kissing in an alleyway?”

Bellroc looked almost sheepish. “…yes.”

Skrael tilted his head, looking them over.

…And, ah, he couldn’t resist. He hiked his backpack onto one shoulder, and began to exit the alley, tossing his words out as he left, “That’s alright. It was fun.”

By the time they unfroze, Skrael was long gone, leaving behind only a tingle on their lips, and a manila folder in their bag, which promised that they’d be seeing him again.


	2. other dancers may be on the floor, dear...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...but my eyes will see only you.
> 
> Prompt: [HAND]

The air in the dorm suite that housed one particular trio of friends was the kind of air that begot nervous fidgeting and biting down on giddy smiles. It wasn’t their first formal by any means, but it was the first they’d be celebrating as upper classmen, and something about that felt… special. They weren’t terrified freshman or arrogant sophomores. They weren’t bittersweet seniors. They’d hit what felt—perhaps naïvely—like a sweet spot in their college years, and while junior year was notoriously one of the hardest, they couldn’t be bothered by that tonight.

Because the formal had arrived, and they’d finally reached a point where they felt like they’d figured—not nearly everything, but—some things out. Like, for instance, Skrael’s chosen formalwear that night.

His hair had only just begun to reach past his jaw, but with Nari’s near-expert help—Skrael swore she could have been a hairstylist if she wanted—he’d managed to get it into short, tight ringlets; which would help sell his look.

Because that formal, like all formals, was themed, and this year, the school had been bitten by the Gatsby bug; the one that declared this year’s formal thematic of the 1920’s.

[And Skrael was going to wear a dress.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2F47kzzba&t=OTEzMzNhZjgzMTI1ZmVmMDA5NzAwMzlmOWJjZTRhZThiZDE3ZGM4NCw1NTNiYWRkMDgyZWU1MzJmZjVjNjM1Y2M1MDNiZDQzYTliMDY0ZDc4&ts=1609563759)

He didn’t expect that many would pay much mind to that fact; it was fashion school, after all, and as long as the outfit was good, few seemed to put much merit in gender beyond marketing, or an adjective to describe the type of shapes one wanted in a piece.

Still… he’d not exactly worn many dresses before. It was _new_ , and it felt bright and exciting.

Nari smiled at him when she noticed his eyes trailing to it then, still in its garment bag, hanging on his wardrobe doors, and said softly, as she finished the last curl, draping it gently in place with the others, “It’s beautiful. You’re going to look lovely, Skrael.”

A small smile crept its way up, “Thank you. [As are you, you know.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2FircZUOc&t=MjRjOTA4NTA3ZmRiNTg1YTQ1MGQ0Y2ZhNTNhNGJlYzNmMDU1NWI1YywxNTE0NjAyOWNjNzVlNmU5OWZkNTYzYzk4NDllNjE4ZmM1NmEwYjgy&ts=1609563759) I think of the three of us, you’re going to be turning the most heads.” He grinned.

Nari stuck out her tongue at him. “Oh, hush. We all will.”

Skrael snorted. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t give me that! You _know_ Bellroc will, but so will _you_ —in the good way! … _Although_ …” her voice took on a playful edge and Skrael glared at her, already guessing where she was taking this.

“Do not d—”

“You—”

“Nari—” Skrael warned.

“You probably only wanna turn one specific head, huh?”

Skrael huffed, the tips of his ears reddening, “ _No._ I’m over that—…whatever it was. I dunno. Whatever—cru—infatu— _thing_ I thought I had was probably just…” Skrael couldn’t think of an excuse. “ _Whatever_! The point is that it’s over. I don’t have a crush on—on them anymore.” His voice went softer, and he shot a glance at his closed door, as if Bellroc could have somehow appeared there without either of them noticing.

Nari giggled, “ _Okay_ , and I’m just saying it’s okay if you do. I bet they’re getting all dressed up for _you_ , too, you know.”

Skrael’s face heated worse at that thought. “Absolutely not! We are _friends,_ Nari, and nothing is going to jeopardize that. Especially not me and my _Whatever_.”

Nari went quiet, and shot him a soft look. The mild concern in her eyes burned in Skrael’s chest, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Well… Alright, Skrael. But I hope you know that it really is okay. Even if they don’t feel the same way, we can get through that. Our friendship isn’t conditional, you know.” Nari’s voice had a calming tone to it.

Skrael’s shoulders slumped, and he answered back with a tiny, grateful smile, to reassure her that he was alright. He really was over the weird crush he thought he’d had a few weeks ago, so, of course he was alright. Conditional friendship or not, it would still have made things weird. He was glad it was gone. “Thank you. You always know just what to say… Thank you.”

Nari beamed back, and reached over to hug him tightly. “I love you; you know that, right? Nothing will get in the way of that.”

Skrael gave a quiet chuckle. “I know, I know. I love you, too. …Now, you need to go get ready yourself.” He pulled out of the hug, and gave her shoulders a gentle shove. “I know you; I’m sure you’ve got some cool, complicated hair braid you’re going to do, and it’s gonna blow the rest of us away, but those take time, so get outta here and go do that. We have a dinner reservation in an hour.”

Nari gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!” and laughed her way out of Skrael’s room.

Skrael stared after her fondly for a moment, losing himself, until he realized that the sooner he could finish his makeup, the sooner he could get dressed, and nervous as he was, he was also buzzing with eagerness to wear it. The—extremely kind and open-minded—salesperson who’d helped him pick it out had said that he’d been practically glowing in it. He liked chasing that feeling.

Exactly one smoky eye and dark red lip later, he could finally slip the dress from its bag.

He laid it on his bed, admiring the lace, the embroidery… _yes_ , he thought. _Maybe I will turn Be—someone’s,_ he corrected, _head._

It wasn’t until he’d managed to get it most of the way on, that he remembered how hard it had been to get the mid-back clasp in the dressing room.

_Shoot._ He sighed, reaching back awkwardly, to try and do it himself.

Two minutes passed, and all he’d managed to do was curse frustratedly on multiple occasions, growing increasingly annoyed, with the more tries it took.

He thought he’d nearly gotten it on one such try, when a knock sounded from his door.

He groaned as he turned out to have been wrong, and had missed once more. “Just a sec…”

Skrael gave one last valiant effort, entirely in vain, before he caved, admitted defeat, and turned to go ahead and let in—

Bellroc looked at him apprehensively from the hallway as the door opened. “Are you alright? I thought I—” Their eyes caught on the dress.

Skrael hardly noticed, though, because he was busy staring right back, [at—the gold—their collarbones—their legs.](https://blog.slate.fr/wp-includes/ms-files.php?blog=anti-blogue-la-mode&file=2012/11/CL202-23.jpg)

He snapped to first.

“Oh. Yes.” He felt embarrassment curl up his throat. “I was just—”

Bellroc shook their head. “Zipper trouble?” They guessed.

Skrael huffed a small laugh, “If only. No, a hook and eye. I swear they made it small just to torture me.”

“Right…” Bellroc’s voice sounded a touch choked, which Skrael didn’t fully understand. They looked fairly alright, though, so he ignored it; if they weren’t feeling well, they wouldn’t look ready to go. “Do you… want help?”

Skrael blinked. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Sure. Yeah.” They shrugged. “I can do it.”

They stood in front of each other in silence for too long of a beat, then, before Skrael’s mind caught up, and he gave a sheepish laugh. “Oh! Sorry. I was totally in your way… uh, come in.” He gestured for them to follow, before turning and stepping into the room proper.

Bellroc wasn’t planning on bailing on their offer, but they were also fairly certain that anything Skrael could possibly ask of them in that moment would be nearly impossible to deny.

They approached slowly, feeling entirely too warm, as Skrael glanced at them over his shoulder. “Do you see it?”

“…Mhm.”

_This was either the worst or the best idea they’d ever had,_ Bellroc thought, as they gingerly took the clasp in their hands. Try as they might to respect Skrael’s personal space and boundaries, there was no way they could do the clasp up without—

Skrael bit down on his tongue as he felt their fingers, feather-light, brush his back. He swallowed, and it took all of his willpower not to let them see the way his hands were trembling.

He folded them behind him, in fact, as he turned back around quickly, “Ah… how do I look?” He asked, voice soft.

_Like a dream they never wanted to wake from._

“Good. It suits you.”

Skrael preened under the praise, beaming at them and _oh_ that stupid, fantastic smile…

They weren’t sure what exactly possessed them to do this, but they were fairly sure they could blame it on those curls, on his lips, on the plunging neckline, and very, very much on the backless part of the phrase ‘backless dress.’

“In fact,” a playful edge took over their voice, as they grasped one of Skrael’s hands gently, and lifted it to their own lips, “You look positively radiant.”

The look they shot Skrael over his— _bare!—_ knuckles completely decimated him.

_…ah_. There were those pesky feelings again. Back with a vengeance, it seemed.

His chest felt too tight as he smiled back, playing right along, even affecting a transatlantic accent—or, the best he could do at it—and said, mock bashfully—though it wasn’t hard to play at that part, “Why, if you aren’t careful, one _might_ call you a flatterer.”

Bellroc laughed, letting him take his hand back to reach for and put on his [gloves](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpin.it%2F7DmLehu&t=ZjYxOWEwMGYzZjlmZGI2ZGQ4YzFjNmIxMjcxZjMzNWZhNzU2OGJhZCw5MjlkOWU2NTU1NjM4OWZmN2YwZmEzYzNlNjEyY2VhNzk0NmU3MGFl&ts=1609563759), and while his back was turned—while they could ensure that he wouldn’t hear them—they murmured under their breath, “Only for you…”


	3. damn your kiss and the awful things you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: [RAIN] + an alternate ending to how this fight would have gone - what if someone had kissed the other way back when?

"...congratu-fucking-lations." Bellroc's voice was low, as they glared at the sketch they'd been working on.

Some of the lines had nearly pushed through the paper. 

Skrael glanced over to them, the smile previously on his face sliding off. He knew this was going to happen. He _knew_ it.

_So why did it still hit so hard?_

"...excuse me?" He fought to keep his voice steady. 

Bellroc's grip on their pencil tightened when Nari slipped from the room. 

Skrael followed their eyes, getting distracted for just a moment, stomach sinking when he noticed Nari's absence. She'd been doing that lately, whenever they seemed like they were about to have it out once more. 

Skrael turned back to face Bellroc-- there was little he could do to stop Nari, and he’d never subject her to even more of this than she’d already had to handle-- raising his chin in defiance. "Why aren't you happy for me? I just broke one of the best deals any one of us has ever gotten. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, but this is our dream, isn't it? To get into the big leagues? This is our chance to do that, Bells." 

Bellroc's eyes were a viper's. "Okay.” They set their pencil down, but did not stand up. “First of all, Starr Occult is _barely_ above Hot Topic, and you _know_ it. That’s hardly big leagues-- it’s not even a high-end _department_ store. So what-the-fuck-ever; big fucking deal, Skrael. They growled. “And secondly, it’s not even a deal for all three of us. I _thought_ we were supposed to do this together.”

Skrael scoffed. “And we _will_. But we have to have some kind of in, first, and if this has to be it, then, I don’t see why not. Besides, they didn’t say I couldn’t get help from you two.”

“But they didn’t say you could, either, did they?” Bellroc stared into his eyes, lip curling. “In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear that you didn’t even think to _ask_ , did you?”

Skrael went silent. 

It wasn’t that he’d intended not to ask… it had just happened so quickly…

“I-” Skrael huffed. “I didn’t need to. They know we’re a package deal; we’ve never hid that.”

“And _yet_ , I am quite certain mine and Nari’s names are _not_ on the contract, Skrael.”

“That… that doesn’t have to mean--”

“Yes it _does_ , Skrael! We can help you all day, but Nari and I don’t get to see a single ounce of credit for our work if we do! Not to mention the royalties, and _god_ , I don’t even care about that, but you _know_ we would get nothing!” They noticed him open his mouth, but held up their hand to stop him. “Don’t you _dare_. I’m _sure_ you’d share it with the rest of us, because _every dime_ any of us makes goes to keeping this _car crash_ going-- _I am plenty aware_. It isn’t about the money, Skrael-- hell, it isn’t even about the _deal_. I need you to listen to me; the problem is that you did this _without us_.” They couldn’t quite clear all of the pain in their voice, and they wanted to scream, yell, be _loud_ , because he wasn’t supposed to know they were _hurt_ ; he was supposed to know they were _angry_. 

But they could barely even feel a hint of the flame. Instead, they felt the way the Titanic must have. 

“You did it without us, even though a decision this big should be something we _all_ talk about first. What ever happened to talking, Skrael?”

Skrael had clenched his jaw, his fists, against the avalanche on his tongue. “I just wanted to advance our careers, Bells… it’s one deal. It’s not even that big. Nine pieces, total. Three pants, three skirts, three shirts. Straightforward. It should have been _easy_.” 

Bellroc gave a haughty laugh, “Easy. As if anything is _easy_ these days. Things haven’t been easy for us in weeks, and you _know_ it.” They paused there, to see if he’d say something. They almost _wanted_ him to. They wanted him to fuel their rage; they wanted him to retort, and they wanted to rebut it, and they wanted so _badly_ for him to strike that match, grate against them, push back, _cry out_.

But Skrael didn’t say a word. 

They almost got what they wanted, though, as his cold stare locked onto their heated one, and _ah_ , it wasn’t nearly enough, and that, too, irritated them-- how could he just stand there like that? While they were twisting, curling, crackling-- so they took the opportunity he presented them anyway, even if it wasn’t the one they’d silently begged him for, and continued.

“Did you really think that this was okay, Skrael?” They glared.

Skrael’s shoulders went visibly tenser, and-- a vicious delight ran through them, seeing that-- he finally broke. “I’m sorry; did I think giving us a leg up in our careers-- our _dreams_ , Bellroc-- was _okay_? How fucking _dare_ you. Of course I thought giving us an in to the professional world was acceptable! Since when did I have to clear everything with you? I didn’t know we were a _hivemind_ , Bellroc; I didn’t know I had to go and get a _permission slip_ to do my _job_.” 

Bellroc bristled, and finally stood up. One, two, three long strides, and then they were crowding Skrael’s personal space, “Your job is not to do ours _for us_ -”

“-then maybe _you_ should make more contacts in the industry! At least _I’ve_ gotten a deal at all!” Skrael spat, resisting the urge to step backward.

“Oh, yes, I see; because it’s _my_ fault a second-rate retailer with shitty fabric and bad stitching hasn’t picked me out for mass consumption to idiot teenagers who don’t know the difference between cotton and polyester. Wow, I feel so bad, Skrael; really! I’m just _aching_ for Wal-Mart to set their sights on me! You piece of _shit_. You got _lucky_ that they’re still looking for clothes that thirteen year olds wear to pretend they’re being rebellious. As if a paper-thin graphic tee makes you Alexander fucking McQueen, Skrael! This deal is stupid, and you know it. What happened to not selling out? To a mass retailer, Skrael? A _chain_?”

Skrael couldn’t resist a humorless, shocked laugh, “Are you kidding me? You’re really going to act like you’re gonna suddenly get asked to collab with _Westwood_ on your first fucking try? We have to start _somewhere_ , Bellroc!”

“I _know_ that, Skrael! I just thought that maybe-” they cut themself off, looking to the side, shutting their eyes. They took a steadying breath… then leveled him with a mercilessly disappointed glare. “Well. You know what I thought.” 

The air stilled for half a second. 

And then Skrael rolled his eyes. 

“I _never_ said we aren’t going to do this together, Bellroc. You are _wildly_ overexaggerating.”

Ah… there was the strike. 

They accepted it in stride, lighting up. “ _Oh_ …” They growled. “ _Fuck_ you, Skrael. If that’s how you want to do this, _fine_. I’m just _delighted_ to oblige! Fuck you and your stupid fucking deal-- I hope you have _so much fun_ with your brand new, shiny contract, and all the assholes who come with it. And you know what? Don’t even _bother_ asking for my help. This is _your_ deal, remember? So take it, cherish it, and then shove it up your ass.” They slung their words at him like blows, before whirling to collect their coat and their backpack, stopping just before the door to hiss, “Don’t fucking show your face here tomorrow.”

The door was on its way to being slammed, but Skrael managed to catch it, as he followed on Bellroc’s heels, out into the rain. “You _cannot_ tell me not to come in-- you don’t have that right! You don’t have the authority.”

Bellroc spun on their heels to face him. “Like hell I do! I’m not telling you that as a business partner, Skrael; I’m telling you that as a--” _don’t say friend_ , “...a co-worker. If you show your goddamn face tomorrow, Skrael, I will _make_ you regret it.”

Skrael looked unbothered, “What are you gonna do, get in a fistfight with me? Duel me at sundown? _Please_. Avoid the empty threats, Bellroc; they’re not a good look on you.” 

Bellroc made a hateful noise. “Do you _want_ me to? Because if you keep fucking pushing me, I just _might_.” With how wired they felt, they almost, _almost_ , wanted to… but Skrael was-- unfortunately-- right. Their words were empty.

_Still_ … when Skrael had the audacity to start _laughing_ , it was much easier to see the appeal. 

“You would _never_.” He managed between laughs, and _god_ , they just wanted him to _shut up_ ; between his laughter, the rain, the blood rushing in their ears, the bonfire in their chest--

_Something had to give._

As if they were watching from outside of their own body, they reached up, clapped their hands onto the sides of Skrael’s face, and he looked so _stupidly_ beautiful in the rain, in the street lights, and they weren’t even sure what they were _doing_ , but they were leaning in, suddenly, and it felt like a fever, it felt fake, it felt--

It wasn’t a nice kiss. 

They were too angry for that.

Instead, it was vicious, and too hard, and mean, and Skrael wasn’t moving, except-- _was that bite from them or him?_ They couldn’t even tell. So they stepped closer, making him crane his neck, and he should have pulled away then, but he didn’t, so they didn’t, and neither of them understood what was happening, and--

The kiss wasn’t supposed to be good. 

_It wasn’t supposed to light yet more of their insides ablaze._

But it did. 

And they hated it. 

And they loved it. 

Eventually, they pulled back, slow, full of hesitation and something that wasn’t regret, but felt like it.

Bellroc cut Skrael off before he could ask.

**_“Shut. Up.”_** They said, tone dangerous, before they let him go and stormed to their car. 

The apartment was a graveyard that night.


	4. nobody know you like i know you, no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: [FOREHEAD] + Fluff + Skrael initiates

“Bells? Are you alright?” Skrael gave a gentle knock on their door.

He didn’t mean to hover; he really didn’t. It was just… 

“You’ve been listening to… ‘Mr. Brightside,’ on repeat for the last hour? It’s not-- a problem, per se, just--”

The sounds of The Killers turned less audible through the walls, and Skrael could hear shuffling inside their bedroom. As he was about to turn back to his own room, feeling horribly awkward, Bellroc’s door opened a fraction. 

He whirled back to face them, quickly. As of now was his first actual sighting of them since the morning, when they’d grabbed their favorite [ 21 ounce mug ](https://www.amazon.com/Bosmarlin-Stoneware-Coffee-Dishwasher-Microwave/dp/B0878DQC63/ref=sr_1_5?dchild=1&keywords=20+oz+mug&qid=1610930900&sr=8-5), filled it near to the brim with barely-lighter-than-black coffee, and stalked back to their room without a word. 

Standing in front of them now, he gave them a once-over, worry growing. He knew what they were working on-- it was the project all three of them had to turn in by the end of the semester-- and while it wasn’t quite that Skrael was unbothered by the assignment where they were, it was just… Bellroc had been having a bit of inspirational trouble. 

The assignment had all three of them out of their comfort zones, to be entirely fair-- randomly assigning them a classic style prompt. 

But Nari had been the luckiest of all three of them, getting “historical vintage - mid-60’s”; it was different from her modern designs, but it still fell rather squarely in her skill range. She adored making flowing silhouettes and using lighter colors than either Bellroc or Skrael favored, to bring out a more natural look on her models. The hippie movement of the era would support her concepts perfectly.

Skrael, on the other hand, who had managed to end up with “black tie,” wasn’t particularly struggling either, but he did have to consult the professor on more than one occasion about toning down the hints of alternative fashion that had slipped into more than one of his drafts. 

Bellroc, however, had ended up with “sportswear.” 

And it wasn’t that they despised sportswear clothes. They understood that the style served a function that was in high demand. They even held a certain respect for designers that could make their entire careers in sports fashion. 

But it was also nearly the polar opposite of the formal, campy, vaguely punk designs that they wanted to make into their brand.

So it had been difficult. 

Bellroc raised an eyebrow at Skrael’s sudden silence, and before he could try to remedy that, they turned to walk back into their room. They left the door open, though, so Skrael knew he was being invited in. 

This was furthered when they mumbled, “shut the door behind you, please,” as they sat back down at their desk.

He complied, grateful for the excuse to do something, as he gathered his thoughts.

Skrael started with something easy, to breach the subject’s surface, but only just. “So... How’s the project going?”

They shot him an unappreciative look. 

He winced. “That bad, huh?”

Bellroc exhaled through their nose. “Yes.” It sounded nearly physically painful for them to admit that.

Skrael softened, walking over to place one hand on the back of their chair, and the other on their desk, as he leaned over to get a look at what they’d been doing. 

His brow furrowed. “Wait. I thought you said it wasn’t going well. These look great!”

They gave a frustrated groan. “They’re fine, I guess, but they feel… typical. Boring. There’s nothing about them that would stand out in a Nike store.”

Skrael hummed. “Well, I suppose that’s true. But do they have to stand out? Don’t you want them to look like they belong there?”

“Maybe if it wasn’t _Overton_. But you know how he is. He’ll dock points immediately for unoriginality.” 

Skrael gave a quiet sigh. They were right. 

“Hm. Okay. Well. Let’s brainstorm. Wanna bounce some ideas off me?” He asked.

Bellroc considered the idea, and Skrael gave them one more nudge, “I don’t mind.”

They looked at him skeptically. “You’re not busy, too?”

He shrugged. “Nah. Overton and I have another draft meeting tomorrow, so I’m at a good stopping point.”

“...If you’re sure.” They hummed.

“I am. Now. What do you have so far?” He asked, glancing down at the various pages scattered around their desk. “I see these, which I still think look great,” he gestured to the top page, “But how are the others?”

Bellroc gathered the pages into a stack and passed them off, “Here. Feel free to rifle. I’ve stared at these for way too long today, anyway.”

Skrael accepted the stack with a reassuring smile, before he flipped through them slowly, taking it all in. 

“Hm… Okay. I like pages one, three, four, five, and seven; I think those are your strongest pairs so far. Have you considered trying shoe designs?”

Bellroc nodded, “Yeah, but I’m saving those for another day. I wanted to get the clothes done first.”

“Right. Well, the jacket on page three is really nice. I highly recommend making that one of the main statement pieces. The pants on page one are good, too, and… I mean, honestly, everything on pages four, five, and seven seems nice to me, too. And none of these have been colored yet, so I’m sure you could do something with that. Maybe experiment with some various palettes? Add prints or patterns to some of these?”

They nodded, gesturing for him to hand back the sheets. He did so, and they scribbled out the notes he’d given on the back of page one, adding them to a long list of crossed out brainstorm ideas that were already there.

Skrael couldn’t help a small, fond smile, before they glanced back up, and he schooled his features into something more neutral. 

“I was thinking about some prints on the shirt; they might add something dynamic to them, make them less flat. It’s just, there’s only so much you can add to workout gear before it gets in the way of actual physical activity.” They grumbled.

“Can you not do athleisure wear?” Skrael asked.

“Overton said not to put that many of those pieces in it. He’s looking for functionality.”

Skrael frowned. “Oh. Well, okay, so, not too many distracting prints, but a few would be alright, right?”

They nodded. “Yeah; a few. I’ll probably rely on patterned fabrics, though. Lots of geometrics.”

“Ah, yeah! Geometrics are nice for workout gear.”

“Mhm. Thing is, there’s only so many hexagons you can apply to something before it gets repetitive.” Their voice was wry.

Skrael snorted. “True.” 

Silence fell in the room, then, as they both tried to brainstorm further ways to combat the unoriginality problem.

After a few moments, Bellroc finally chucked out an idea, and Skrael picked it up and ran with it, leading them to a new idea, which again allowed Skrael to follow it to another one, giving Bellroc even more creative inspiration. They carried on this way for a while, Skrael eventually ending up in a pulled up chair next to Bellroc at their desk, as they traded concepts back and forth, occasionally throwing out ridiculous ones, just to get the other laughing. 

Finally, Skrael suggested, “Maybe you could mess with texture? Or some different-looking fabrics?” He perked up. “Oh! How about--”

Their eyes went wide. “Reflective metallics?” They finished for him, also sitting up straighter, and he flushed.

“Have you already considered that one?”

“No, but I…”

“--like those kinds of flashes when you need to spice up a piece. Right. That’s exactly why I was gonna suggest it.” he caught on, smiling.

“Exactly.” They grinned back. “Well. This has been a very successful session. It seems I should have started the Mr. Brightside loop, earlier, hm?”

Skrael laughed softly, “Maybe so. Do you think you’ve got enough concepts now?”

Bellroc beamed. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

Skrael shook his head. “Thanks to your brilliance.”

Bellroc got a funny look on their face that Skrael couldn’t quite identify, but to avoid an awkward silence after his… disarmingly honest compliment, he said, “So. Can I steal you for a break, now?”

Bellroc looked a touch relieved at the subject change, before a sly grin crossed their face. “Mmm… if I was convinced…” They shot back.

“Well…” Skrael’s eyes turned mischievous. “We haven’t had a bad horror movie night in a while.”

“ _Oh,_ that might just do it.” They smirked.

Skrael resisted the laugh that threatened to break his demeanor, as he playfully said, “I know what you like.” He winked.

Not one to be outdone, they matched his tone. “You sure do, _darling_.”

“Only the best for you, my dear.” Skrael stood back up, but before Bellroc could stand, too, he moved one hand to their shoulder, looking them in the eyes. 

“But, first. On a serious note, are you sure you’re feeling up to it? I won’t force you; I just think a break will be good for you.”

Bellroc stared into Skrael’s eyes, searching for something, before their face eased into a softer expression. “...Yeah. I’m sure. I feel a lot better, now. Which is _also_ thanks to you.” 

Skrael was no stranger to their hugs, so feeling their arms loop around him, he adjusted quickly, reaching to wrap his arms around their shoulders, placing one hand on the back of their head.

“I’ve got your back, Bells. Always.” 

Neither of them acknowledged the soft brush of his lips against their forehead, for fear of breaking whatever had just passed in the air between them, but as Skrael’s chest warmed, and Bellroc’s face heated, they both allowed themselves a hidden, indulgent grin.


End file.
